"Yet I Forgot to Speak of the Twenty Aeroplanes!" You can expect anything, of course, of Arabs.

People who will pitch black cotton tents in the scorching sun, and live in them in preference to gorgeous cool stone temples because of the devils and ghosts that they believe to haunt those habitable splendors, will believe anything at all except the truth, and act in any way except reasonably.

So I tried to believe it was all right to be unreasonable too.
You would think, wouldn't you, that a man who had set himself up to be the holy terror of a country-side and put his heel on the necks of all the tribes for miles around, would have made use at least of the caves and tombs to strengthen his position.

There were thousands of them all among those opal-colored cliffs, to say nothing of ruined buildings; yet not one was occupied.

Ayisha had told most of the truth when she said in El-Kalil that her people lived in tents.
We walked down the paved street of a city between oleander bushes that had forced themselves up between the cracks, toward an enormous open amphitheater hewn by the Romans out of a hillside, with countless tiers of ruined stone seats rising one above the other like giant steps.
In the center of that the tents were pitched, and the only building in use was a great half-open cave on another hillside, in which Ayisha told us Ali Higg himself lived, overlooking the entire camp and directing its destinies.
On the top of the mountain in front of us was the tomb of Aaron, Moses' brother.